


✓ read at 21:30

by kallliope



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-25 15:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallliope/pseuds/kallliope
Summary: Yousef spends an unnecessary amount of time on texts. (update: I posted this story before the fateful 4x05 party clips, so this is officially now an au where Yousef ISN'T A JERK THAT LEADS SANA ON)





	1. breaking point

**Author's Note:**

> I AM DEAD INSIDE

 

> **_Thanks_ **

Yousef couldn’t help but smile at the one word that just popped up on his lock screen, just under the header SANA. Short and to the point—exactly like the girl herself. He pulled his other hand from his hoodie pocket to type back an answer.  

> **_Anything for you!_ **

 He frowned at the phrase. That sounded too…too teasing. Sana wouldn’t like that: he knew she’d roll her eyes at it, thinking it a practical joke. Yousef quickly deleted the offending text, and typed in a new one.

> **_No worries_**  

Yousef bit his lip. Now it looked almost casual, like he thought nothing of it. Now that was a joke to remember. Him, not regarding Sana? In what universe? Sure, she kept to the sidelines most of the time, but her persona and her charisma radiated around everyone around her. It was impossible for him to ignore Sana Bakkoush. He hesitated before accessing the emoji bank and adding in a heart. _Don’t over think it, idiot_ , Yousef thought to himself before hitting _Send_.   

> **_No worries ♡_**

 A pause. A pause that showed no grey dots typing a reply. No, this wasn’t a pause; this was torture. He shouldn’t have sent that stupid heart, he knew it—

Yousef almost dropped his phone when he saw the grey dots rising on the screen. A good sign! He hoped. His smile started to grow back again. 

> **_I’ll find a way to convince mom that you’re a good muslim even though you drink vodka_ **

Yousef’s smile faded. That constant reminder that he couldn’t take this further, that he should have stopped at the simple friend request a few days ago. His finger hovered above the power button of his phone, about to turn it off.

No. Sana deserved nothing but the truth. Better to rip the bandaid off all at once, right?

> **_Haha it’s fine, I’m not a muslim_ **

Not serious. Completely casual. Both things that Yousef wasn’t at the moment. The waiting period dragged on and he pictured her reading the text, penciled eyebrows furrowed in confusion, black lips puckered in a puzzled frown. 

> **_What do you mean?_ **

_Tell her, tell her_ , half of his mind chanted. The other half screamed at him to just pass over the comment, cover it up with a half-hearted ‘jk’. But the thought of lying to Sana made his stomach churn with guilt. And her anger—he’d seen that cutting look directed at her brother that day in the living room. She never showed it, but he knew the comment stung. He never wanted Sana hurt because he got too scared of telling the truth.

So, shakily, he began to type.  

> **_I don’t believe in Allah_ **

Yousef’s thumb floated over the _Send_ button. He saw Sana’s dark eyes sparkling across the living room, saw her hands guiding the carrot peeler, saw her mouth open to let out some remark that left him speechless.

He pressed down.

When Yousef saw the grey checkmark and the time pop up, his teeth ground on his lip until he tasted blood.


	2. waiting game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since _that_ message, and Yousef's received no answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't leave these two alone rip
> 
> Also, enter the unknowable conflict between Even and Mikael!

Ten sent messages. Ten grey checkmarks accompanied by ten _reads_. Seven days, five hours since he contacted Sana and sent that text that crumbled...whatever he thought they had. Even identifying what they were seemed needlessly complicated now. Not friends, but almost enough for something else.

Yousef tugged on his hoodie strings listlessly as he stared at his phone again. _Like you had a chance to grow into something closer._

The Insta photo of her headphones made him chuckle, but his joy dissipated when he thought about the image more metaphorically. Her life, a tangled mess by other forces, and he contributed to that mess, whether he meant to or not.

“You’re moping.”

“Nope.” Yousef replied, pulling his hood up and tossing his snapback hat between his hands. Mikael only raised his eyebrows in a _your-bullshit-meter-just-broke-records_ manner, the kind of eyebrow raising that Even gave when he still attended Bakka.

Perfect. Another reminder of a person gone from his life in the blink of an eye.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mikael asked. Yousef just shrugged his shoulders and burrowed out of sight in his hoodie.

“I may have fucked something up with someone,” Yousef replied in a muffled voice. “And I don’t think anyone can help fix it.”

 Mikael stayed silent for a moment, and then Yousef heard a shift of leather on cloth - the sound of Mikael shifting on the couch.

“You know, I think I understand a lot more about fucking up close relationships than you think.”

Yousef raised his head, eyes wide.

_Even._

“Shit,” he blurted out. “Sorry man, I completely forgot, I—”

Mikael waved his hands in dismissal. “It’s fine. Well, not—ah. What I was going to say, is that to give it time. Whomever you’re worrying about, they’ll forgive you someday.”

“Try no day,” Yousef muttered, running a hand through his hair in shame. “It’s been over a week, and they still haven’t said anything.”

“No acceptance, no cursing, no nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Huh. You did apologize, didn’t you?” Mikael asked, his eyes suddenly sharpening.

Yousef nodded vehemently. He checked his Messenger at home, school, and the houses’ of the other squad members for the grey checkmark to eventually appear after every apology. He thought these checkups as mere cursory glances until he got a notification that he used up almost all of his data plan.

“Good.” Mikael suddenly looked ten years older. “That’s at least a step. You’ve done all you can, now you gotta wait for them to respond.”

“You still waiting?”

“No need to wait when there’s nothing sent from both people, right?” Mikael chuckled hollowly, his eyes holding the glimpse of a melancholy gaze.

Yousef wondered whether both Even and Mikael intended to stay silent at each other for the rest of the year, but asked nothing more, just slung an arm around Mikael’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go tell Elias to gather the gang up. It’s been awhile since we all got together.”

The look in Mikael’s eyes dissipated. “Bet you can’t make it down to the street when the boys arrive.”

“Wha—” The last part of his sentence ended in a playful yell as Mikael snatched Yousef’s snapback from his hands and darted out the front door, cackling loudly. “Oh, you’re asking for it—!”

Yousef’s phone remained on the couch, forgotten as its owner chased after his precious hat. The door slammed shut behind him just as his phone lit up, chimed a happy _ping_ , and the header SANA floated on screen before it snapped back to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream at me about Skam on my tumblr (@asteriaria).


	3. unfriended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a response from Sana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT THE HELL JULIE TAKE THAT CLIP **B A C K**
> 
> It's almost creepy that I posted the phone pinging last chapter with this new clip; it really ties it in with the show's canon progression.

"Shit, I forgot my phone—"

"We're just gonna walk around here, it's not like we're leaving Oslo in a first-class plane—"

"Aw, you think you're worth first class? That's cute."

"The joke's on you, idiot; planes can't be all first class!"

"Smartass, what’s a private jet? Or a reserved plane?"

"Dear Julenissen* or whomever, all I want for Christmas is a first-class plane so I can prove to Mikael that they exist."

* * *

In all hindsight, luck worked on his side; Elias had started snatching the squad's phones to see their Facebook stats after an hour of walking aimlessly around the Oslo streets. Every time Yousef saw him scrolling through a different phone of the boys’, he let out a tiny huff of relief that the phone wasn’t his own. Something in him suspected the worst about Elias seeing the pathetically long list of texts sent to Sana on his phone, or the "stalking" joke. Or the eleven minute timestamp from one message to the next one—a clear, glowing sign of his desperation. If it was anyone besides his little sister, Elias would have found the whole situation hilarious as hell, would have joked about how completely whipped Yousef was for this mysterious person. Any other person.

And it hurt. 

Once the squad saw the 21:00 glowing from the nearest bank clock, Yousef split from the group and started the twenty minute trek towards home. Plenty of time to sufficiently wind himself up in wondering when Sana would give him an answer.

_**Twelve** **kids?** _

The incredulous question nearly sent Yousef crashing onto the sidewalk. He glanced around quickly, but saw no sign of Sana anywhere in the dark.

**_There’s eleven people on two football teams._ **

Her voice was quieter this time, but it still pierced through the stifling silence of the night, echoing across the street pavements and bouncing off the walls of houses.

Yousef shook his head and started walking faster. Home, and then sleep. Hearing Sana’s voice in his mind meant bad news, especially when it fooled him into thinking her nearby.

**_My thumb?_ **

Why, out of all the times he saw Sana, did he choose to focus on that moment? He already remembered every excruciating detail of that day at Elias and Sana’s home—sharing quick, private glances with Sana and then coming up with the excuse of needing a drink to talk to her. Yousef’s fingers flexed involuntarily as they remembered the smooth surface of the carrot peeler. He’d turned it so nervously in his hand as he’d tried to teach her.

**_How did you get so good at peeling carrots?_ **

He even forgot his drink in the kitchen after Elias discovered him stalling. Sana must have seen that and laughed to herself.

Yousef regretted that he never saw Sana’s reaction when Elias kicked him out. Really, even if she’d laughed, he’d have wanted to see it more. _Sana Bakkoush’s the only person that brings stars to life with her laugh._

Back home, his phone still sat alone on the nightstand where he left it. Yousef pressed the home button and expected the group squad’s usual nighttime messages to appear first on notifications.

A certain someone’s name floated first over the chat group’s title, however.

Yousef snatched up the phone so fast his wrist scraped across the nightstand table with an ugly creak. But the high sense of euphoria made him unable to sense the pain properly. SANA floated in big, black capital letters; no doubt about it, a response from her. Yousef reminded himself to buy something good for Mikael for the next holiday that came around; waiting paid off after all. He unlocked the phone with shaking fingers and let his gaze fall to Sana's message.  

_Sana Bakkoush is no longer in your friend list._

Yousef blinked. And blinked again. He rubbed his eyes and pinched his wrists, but the text—no, _notification_ —remained, bold and loud and unforgiving.

_Sana Bakkoush is no longer in your friend list._

His fingers flew to the Messenger app, tapping out a frantic rhythm as he typed a new text. No, that wasn't something she'd do, right? Not without a proper explanation; if he knew one thing about Sana Bakkoush, she left nothing behind her hanging in suspense. She had the final word and say over everything, she would never leave the last words in a conversation to someone like _him_ —

_Send failed. You don’t have permission to chat with this person._

Yousef heard her voice ringing in his ears again, a cold sensation gripping him as he tried to text another message to her. **_You work in a kindergarten?_**

_Send failed. You don’t have permission to chat with this person._

**_Huh. So you like kids then?_ **

The ghosts of twelve football team kids laughed at him as he started to tremble.

_Send failed._

_**How many are you going to have then?** _

_Send failed. Send failed. Send failed._

The phone slipped from his fingers after the tenth failed message and clattered to the ground with its face up, taunting Yousef with the time—21:30—before the screen faded to darkness once more.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Julenissen = Santa Claus 
> 
> Soooo that clip was scarily perfect for this chapter. I have chills just thinking about it. The text from Sana was originally supposed to be her reluctant agreement to talk things out with Yousef and that would eventually tie back to a happy ending for both of them, but N O apparently we can't have nice things can we @ Julie Andem??? You just had to throw in an extra punch of angst for good measure and make me revise my whole fic plan, didn't you?!?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr (@asteriaria)!


	4. bluebells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sana and Yousef's confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that clip KILLED ME. 
> 
> Yeahhh, I know this chapter’s sloppy and messy and does no justice for that clip BUT I JUST HAD TO WRITE THIS ASAP OK MY HEART WAS FILLED WITH JOY
> 
> Warning: mention of suicide.

He never meant to call her; they never even exchanged numbers, and just a few days ago, she’d made clear wanted nothing to do with him after unfriending him on Facebook. But he couldn’t carry a drunk and staggering Elias through half of Oslo to the Bakkoush household alone. With his luck, they’d arrive just as the family would finish preparing dinner at the table.  And somehow, Yousef thought the sight of him dragging in a slurring Elias through the foyer might not add credibility points in the eyes of the Bakkoush parents, who already suspected him as a bad influence. They’d never let their daughter anywhere near him.

“This is Sana Bakkoush. I’m not at my phone right now, so leave a message.”

Elias lifted his head, groaning. “That Sana?”

“No, it’s just her voice mail.”

“Man, you don’t need to call my baby sister for help, she’ll flip if she sees me like this. I’ll get myself home fine; I just want to crash.”

As soon as Elias tried to stand up, his legs wobbled, but Yousef pressed a hand against his chest to stop him falling in a heap.

“Nice try. You’re not going anywhere without help.”

Elias just moaned and leaned against Yousef’s side, too nauseous to protest.

Yousef dialed Sana again, and waited, fingers drumming on his knee. Odds were ten to one she’d pick up, and even if she did, what would he—

The line clicked, and suddenly Yousef heard a muted flood of voices in the background, one of them Noora, the other two distinctly male. Did he interrupt a double date? 

_It’s none of your business who Sana dates; tell her what you need._

The silence on the other end screamed its agreement down his ear, and he hastily began to explain the situation to her. Once he heard her say she’d help, he quickly hung up before he said something stupid like _I didn’t expect you to listen._

* * *

 “I can walk you home.” 

Sana reared her head back in disbelief, but the look slowly slipped away as she shook her head and declined. Now, Yousef, just like you teach the kids in kindergarten. Walk away when the other person says stop, now—

“It’s no problem, I’ll walk you.”

_Damn it._

Yousef gave Sana a ghost of a smile and turned on his heel, already anticipating the sight of her walking the other way. But when he peeked over his shoulder, he saw Sana striding behind him, quickening her pace so she’d walk beside him and not fall behind. 

It almost made him fall flat on his face.

When Sana finally caught up to him, he snuck a quick glance at her. The mysterious Mona Sana, a mysterious but enticing riddle solved by no one. He remembered the same enigmatic look in her eyes when her girl squad met with the boys for the first time. She stood on the sidelines, an omnipresent observer who smiled at his questions, but answered to no one—including himself.

Their sneakers scraped against the concrete as they walked side by side. The silence between them prickled at Yousef, and he mulled over all the convo openers he knew before throwing every one of them aside. He peeked at her again; but this time, her dark eyes flickered over in his direction. He quickly tore his gaze away like the coward he was.

Fortunately, a conversation starter came in the form of an abandoned football leaning against a tarp wall. Yousef forced himself not to look at Sana again as he crossed her path and kicked the ball back to his spot, the picture of innocent play.

_I won't have a football team. I'll have a basketball team._

The voice startled him enough to kick the ball high enough to his hand, and he held back a wince as he started dribbling it like a basketball.  _Real inconspicuous._  

“What did Elias drink?”

 _Eyes on the ball, Acar._ “Vodka.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sana swivel towards him, face filled with alarm.

_Shit. Fix this!_

Yousef impulsively tossed the ball in her direction for a change the subject; it crashed into the tarp wall and rolled backwards to stop before Sana’s feet, a perfect symbolization of how perfectly things go around him. She gave him a half-exasperated, half-fond look she reserved for Elias and the rest of the boys when they fooled around her house while filming their videos. Good. Better exasperated than silent and unknowable. 

“Bad reaction?” he remarked, and gave her a challenging smile. He saw a flash of _something_ cross her eyes as she picked up the ball and tucked it under her arm.

“What did you say?”

Yousef heard the goading dare in her voice and wondered again at the commanding aura in her voice - just by asking a question. He took in her incredulous eyebrows, the ball tucked at her hip, the way she kept walking towards him. Everything in her radiated _come at me, boy_ and since when did he start walking backwards? Right, to see her clearly again. Transparent and whipped, that's his new name.  

“Bad. Reaction,” Yousef repeated, lips popping on the ending of each word. Sana’s eyebrows rose again, high enough to reach the edge of her hijab. Yousef heard the smile in his voice as he raised his hands, daring her right back. “Relax. You gotta relax.” 

He saw her jaw work in thought, mixed in with a good dash of _you're just asking for it._ All right, if she wanted to play that game, Yousef could play along with her.

He stretched out his hand, smugness rising fast. “Pass the ball.”

No sooner than he said it, the ball shot out from her hands and slammed hard against his waiting palms. Yousef knew it left a bruise somewhere to yellow over the next few days, but soon grew too busy laughing to feel any pain. Yousef saw her hand dart out then, her dark nails flashing in the late afternoon sun. He swiped it away from her and laughed even louder, taking her place on the left as they walked down the street.

“You can’t handle the ball.” 

“I can handle balls better than you.”

His chest ached at the familiarity of her brutal wit. Even as she verbally dragged him through the mud, he loved the sound of her voice, smug and cocky, the same tones it had that basket practicing day in her living room.

Still, he pretended she wounded his pride, even when they started playing on court. When Sana let out a victorious whoop after she scored a basket, Yousef bit his lips to stop from grinning at her.

* * *

“You know he tried to kill himself?”

Sana nodded. Of course she knew - Sana, the constant watcher on the walls.

Just thinking about Even’s attempt sent cold chills down his spine. Did he want religion to push him there, to that breaking point? No, of course not. He could still show compassion and be a generally good person without some other influence forcing rules and prayers for him to follow.

She listened attentively and absorbed every word he said, something he knew she'd do. However, to his surprise, Sana's answer held no admonishment, no judgement, only her personal opinion.

“It reminds you what’s most important in the world - to be a good person.”

He noticed her little huffs of hesitation before speaking, the uneasy blinking of her eyelids. It was a rare moment for her, to open up to him. So he kept the million questions rising to his lips down, and listened to her describe how religion truly helped her understand things.

"Imagine! Even a cockroach's brain has meaning." 

When she described how praying threw off the hundred reasons darting around her mind, he wondered if she read his mind. What Sana’s faith gave to her was the same thing she did for him; Sana made him quiet. Everything in his world, including Elias and the boys, encouraged his thoughts and talked until his mind filled with ear shattering volume. Sana stopped the world and gave him enough time to think - the calm, unchanging eye of a hurricane. 

He gazed at her, at the wonder and appreciation in her eyes, the shining curiosity in her stare gleaming brighter with every flash of her eyelashes.

“Every little piece of the universe is so complex. And I just can’t believe it’s here by accident.”

Maybe their relationship might not ever develop. He hid his hurt feelings below the rug today, but he wondered if it might slip out and upset her enough to leave him. The memory of Mikael and Even still made his bones go cold, and he wondered still if religion would ever drive him to such dark places.

But when Yousef looked at Sana, at her wide smile that dimpled her face when she saw the tied bunch of bluebells, the soft thank you in her gaze as she arranged the flowers in her hijab, and heard her carefree laugh before she entered her home, he thought traitorously: maybe, just maybe, they’d grow into something new. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yousana! Being soft and compassionate and pranking and laughing! 
> 
> MORE OF THIS SONG PLEASE 
> 
> Come yell at me at tumblr (@asteriaria)!


	5. i don't wanna talk about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .....I
> 
> AND NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED ANGST!

YOUSEF ACAR

I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU

WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

_HOW **DARE** YOU_

 

I'm putting this fic on hold, because I don't think I can write much further without an explanation of why Yousef did this. But if he _was_ leading Sana on all this time, this story will automatically turn into an AU and I'll have to deviate from canon, because Sana deserves better than someone who actively shows interest in her only to yank the rug from underneath her feet. I may also need to punch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream and cry with me on my [tumblr](http://asteriaria.tumblr.com) so we can protect Sana Bakkoush.


End file.
